


dancing in september

by Kamiizumi



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crazy Rich Asians Fusion, M/M, clubbing and mentions of alcohol, kinda lmao, minsung - Freeform, minsung season | colourful autumn, seo changbin will kick lee minho's ass, skz 00 line is filthy stinkin rich
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27173554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamiizumi/pseuds/Kamiizumi
Summary: How Minho managed this – an invite to one of the most prestigious birthday parties in Seoul – is beyond him. His schemes normally net him a few hundred thousand won at a time, just as much as he needs without ever arousing suspicion, but they’ve never landed him in the lap of the South Korean elite, the upper 1%, the lives of the rich, the blue, and the purple.Jisung may be the young heir to one of SK's richest conglomerates but maybe there's something beyond his money that keeps the con-man in Minho around for longer than necessary.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 3
Kudos: 58
Collections: MINSUNG SEASON: Colourful Autumn 2020





	dancing in september

**Author's Note:**

> happy day 6 of minsung season [p u r p l e]!
> 
> to me, purple just screams royalty and riches and debauchery, and i wanted to throw that in for a spin with a setting just loosely based on craz rich asians lmao. if you wanna check more submissions, don't forget to check out https://twitter.com/minsungseason on twitter!

How Minho managed  _ this _ – an invite to one of the most  _ prestigious _ birthday parties in Seoul – is beyond him. His schemes normally net him a few hundred thousand won at a time,  _ just as much as he needs  _ without ever arousing suspicion, but they’ve never landed him in the lap of the South Korean elite, the upper 1%, the lives of the rich, the blue, and the purple.

Who knew that striking up a conversation with the cute brunette at the bar just a few nights ago would now have him standing inside a  _ very _ fancy bathroom in an outfit, not from his own closet, that probably costs more than the lease on his apartment. Now, staring at his own reflection, admiring the casual coif of his hair and the shiny rings on his fingers as he reached up and adjusted the collar on his shirt –  _ Burberry _ , mind you. He still remembers the chunky number that showed up on the register display back in the boutique and tried his best not to seem too giddy in front of Jisung’s unwavering generosity. If he fled the party right now, he might be able to sell these clothes off on a resale website, make a quick buck and –

His pocket buzzes loudly, distracting him from his otherwise heinous thoughts. When Minho slides his phone out, the screen greets him with a  _ Han Jisung _ plastered right across the top. He sighs and decides against ignoring his call, knowing the young heir would pout about it incessantly later anyway.

“Hello?”

“ _ Hey _ ,” Jisung starts, and Minho immediately notices the loud, ambient noise that is nearly muffling the other end of the call. “ _ Sorry I had to leave you so hastily earlier. Needed to get ready for the party, heh. _ ” His syllables blend into each other, and Minho figures he’s already had a few drinks.

Minho rolls his eyes and turns away from the mirror to lean on the counter instead.

“Yeah, totally fine to abandon your  _ plus one _ at a party all by themselves.” Jisung knows how hard he’s rolling his eyes at this moment, and Minho imagines the pout of his pretty, glossed-up lips. “It’s fine; it’s  _ your  _ birthday anyway. Princess needs to polish his crown?”

“ _ Funny you should say that – a friend sent me a shhsshs..Swarovski crown and –  _ “

Minho chuckles, interrupting the heir. “It’s all good. I’ll see it when I see it.”

“ _ I’ll...see you when I see you, then? _ ”

The smile that forms on Minho’s lips is genuine. Or at least, he would like to think that it is.

“Yeah. See ya.” He quickly disconnects the call and shoves his phone back into his pocket. The aging piece of hardware, much smaller than the hybrid tablet phones that were in fashion at the moment and tarnished with a web of cracks spreading from the bottom left corner, would surely raise some eyebrows if anyone else here saw it in his hands. Maybe he could convince Jisung to buy him a new phone too…

A deep sigh reverberates through his chest and he turns back to the mirror, inspecting his own reflection for any outlying imperfections. He admits he’s always been an above-average kind of guy, but the deep dish work that Jisung put him through just earlier today really brought out the best of his features. His fingers closed over the collar of his  _ Gucci _ jacket, shiny black leather lined with the trademark red and green; four thousand dollars he could have run away with right at this moment. The sparkly rose gold eyeshadow around his eyes wasn’t half bad either.

From inside the bathroom, he hears the already loud chorus of partygoers grow even louder, and he immediately surmises that the birthday boy himself must  _ finally _ be making his grand entrance. Minho leaves the mirror with one last passing glance before making for the bathroom door like he was descending into a deep, dark, neon underworld.

For barely eight in the evening,  _ ZNITH _ – appropriately dubbed for a luxury nightclub perched on top of a skyscraper – was packed to the brim with more socialites than Minho could remember off the top of his head. Unlike the clubs downtown, which was filled with millennials in cheap  _ H&M _ threads and thirty won bodycon dresses;  _ this _ is where the actual magic occurred. His nostrils are incensed with the deep, pervasive scent of fancy spirits and liquor as he scans the room cautiously, eyes darting from the bright green of absinthe being poured out of a decanter to the fluorescent orange cocktails a few young women are clinking together.

Amidst the ambient buzz of the room – a low, deep house jive that manages to make the room pulse like a steady heartbeat – something tugs at Minho’s chest. Like he’s not supposed to be there, as the ancient Orpheus once felt when he descended into the land of the dead. But he’s not Orpheus and no one here is dead, and frankly, it seems like everyone else was too preoccupied with  _ each other _ to pay him any attention. 

At least, the  _ negative _ kind of attention; Jisung’s dolling-up service has allowed him the attraction of  _ plenty _ of curious eyes, men and women alike.

Minho strains his eyes through the room, not at all appreciating the strobing lights and the lush, ultraviolet filter that has descended upon the environment. He may have remembered to put in his contact lenses, but that hardly helped when he was trying to navigate the abstract chaos of Jisung’s birthday party. He barely manages to make it to the bar on the opposite side of the room when a bright spotlight bursts across the air, illuminating a balcony at the far end where the DJ is currently situated.

Minho narrows his eyes at the person standing right in front of the spotlight, his visage completely engulfed in white. From the figure’s angular face and slicked, silvery hair, Minho surmises that it isn’t Jisung. The figure manifests a microphone in one hand as the room erupts into raucous cheering.

“Hey  _ party people! _ Make some... _ NOISE!!! _ ” Despite a youthful, boyish face, his voice is equal parts jovially alcohol-laced and incredibly baritone, much to Minho’s surprise.

A grimace stretches across his face and he swivels in his stool to face the bar, immediately coming face to face with one of the bartenders. “...Whiskey on the rocks, please.” The bartender nods curtly and leaves to retrieve a glass; Minho decides that he might as well take a bit more advantage of Jisung’s generosity.

“How’s everyone doing tonight?!?!” The young man leaning over the balcony railing is wildly swinging the microphone as the room erupts into jeers once again. “Are we ready to meet our  _ birthday BOY?! _ ” Another eruption of cheering and the silver-haired boy screams into the mic shortly before stepping aside. Minho’s eyes widen over the rim of his whiskey glass as a shower of sparks emerges from where the boy once stood...followed by the  _ LG  _ heir himself stepping into the spotlight.

His eyesight may not be 20/20, but he’s all too familiar with those squirrelly, chubby cheeks by now. Not to mention the gargantuan, slightly askew,  _ Swarovski _ crown sitting right on top of his glitter-specked hair.

Jisung is already laughing and all smiles and grabs the mic to say one big  _ YO! _ into it, sending the crowd into euphoric celebration. “Cheers,” Minho mutters before taking another swig of his drink.

“...Minho? Is that you?”

He wonders how he’s able to hear his name over the pulsing bassline and shifts his eyes over to the source of the disturbance. He nearly spits his drink out upon laying his eyes on Chan, the other man clad entirely in his black and white server uniform.

“Minho, what are you doing he – ”

He chooses to ignore the words coming out of Chan’s mouth in favor of jumping off the stool and marching right into the heart of the crowd.

“ _ Dude _ , I  _ know _ what you’re trying to do – “

“ _ No _ , Chan, can we  _ not  _ do this right now? This isn’t what it looks like – “

“ _ What _ isn’t what it looks like?”

Minho freezes in his tracks as he comes face to face with the birthday boy himself, Han Jisung, in all his flushed up, tipsy glory. His cheeks are ballooned up with how wide his grin is, and frankly, Minho admits that it’s hard  _ not _ to stare at him when he’s like this, especially in this dismal strobe lighting.

“I, uh…” At that moment, Minho chooses to survey the threads on the heir’s person instead, committing the expensive taste to memory.

_ Gold-flecked Versace bomber jacket; 1.8 million won. Vetements sheer nude tattoo print top; 704,000 won. Black True Religion distressed jeans; 226,935 won. Limited edition Comme des Garcons Converse collaboration high tops; 174,565 won. _

He feels the lightheadedness creeping onto his brain like a deadly fog, but immediately shakes it off; he’s only had one drink all night long. Minho swallows thickly and forces a timid smile onto his cheeks.

Jisung pouts at him before taking a glance at Chan’s shell-shocked face. “Is this waiter dude bothering you?” His voice drags on each syllable just a bit longer than what would be normal, and Minho has to remind himself that the kid has probably downed more than a few drinks already.

Chan’s eyes got even wider and he bows at the waist, nearly knocking his head into a nearby partygoer. “Mr. Han, sir, no I didn’t – “

“It’s aight, Jisung, he’s cool. Um.” Minho sneers and tugs Chan back up to form, giving him an aside glance. “We...know each other.”

Chan cautiously glances between the two before the realization sinks onto his face like milk staining coffee. He instead chooses to put on his widest, thinnest smile and nods sincerely towards Jisung, before turning heel. Just before settling back into the crowd, Chan leans in close to Minho, close enough for him to hear over the roar of the sound system, and whispers, “...We have to talk about this, Minho, because you know this isn’t right.”

The chance for him to turn Chan around and yell in his face is squandered as the waiter immediately dips out and past a gaggle of girls in matching  _ Balenciaga  _ dresses, leaving Jisung to pick up the reins of the conversation.

“Uh, sorry about that,” Minho yells over the music in the room, a hand coming up to scratch at his slicked-back hair.

“No worries, dude! Hey, gimme your friend’s name later so I can make sure he gets good pay for tonight!” Jisung’s all smiles when he grabs Minho by the arm and drags him through the crowd, and an all-knowing smile creeps onto Minho’s face.

_ Chan, you totally owe me one for this. _

* * *

Minho is semi-anxiously downing his second fruity cocktail – a mango, pineapple, and strawberry frozen concoction that nearly has no hint of alcohol in it – as he watches Jisung a few paces, laughing up the night with random party guests. In between sips of his drink and surveying the room from the  _ VIP  _ section up in the balcony, he’s back in the deepest recesses of his mind, ruminating upon Chan’s rather adverse reaction to seeing him  _ here _ of all places. 

(Chan manages to squeeze himself into some of South Korea’s socialite life, by virtue of scoring a job with a high-end catering company. Minho wants to kick himself in the chin.)

Minho chooses to avoid looking down at the dancefloor raving beneath him for a multitude of reasons. He can name a lot of them, like how he doesn’t like heights, or perhaps because he is expecting Chan to be standing in the center of the dancefloor with his hands on his hips, much like a disapproving mother of four. He’s seconds away from ordering a round of shots when he catches sight of Jisung bounding toward him excitedly.

“Minho hyung! Come meet my friends!” the young heir chirps, pulling Minho right off the plush couch and to his feet. The older boy’s eyebrows furrow cautiously as Jisung steps aside to reveal three other well-dressed individuals, one of which is the excitable silver-haired fellow from earlier.

“I, uh – “

“Hwang Hyunjin, son of the CEO of  _ Naver _ ,” Jisung quips, gesturing to the tall, modelesque one of the three, with platinum blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail and wearing a patterned suit that looked like it was fresh off the runway in Milan. Hyunjin tips him a smile that Minho reciprocates with his own fake, sugary expression.

“Felix Lee – ” Jisung pauses because Felix is poking him in the rib, causing him to giggle, “ – son of the CEO of  _ Hyundai Motors _ .” The smile on Minho can’t become any more saccharine, especially when Felix eagerly shoves his hands into Minho’s own and shakes them with the vigor of someone who had eaten one too many brownies.

“Nice to meet you,  _ man _ . Jisung’s been texting me all about his new  _ amigo _ ,” Felix yells over the crowd, and Minho simply tilts his head at the sprinkle of foreign words. “I think we were all  _ bon _ excited about meeting Jisung’s new friend!”

“Yeah, he’s been pretty much ignoring us for the past few days,” Hyunjin butts in, crossing his arms across his chest and staring at Jisung with a smirk.

“ _ Anyway _ ,” Jisung interrupts, pushing the two both with an arm. “This one is Kim Seungmin. Heir to the  _ biggest _ tech company in South Korea. Starts with  _ Ssss _ and ends with an  _ amsung _ ? I think that might be familiar.” He winks, and Minho tries not to let his face crack too much once he turns his eyes to the last person standing behind Jisung.

“Minho, right? Nice to meet you.” Seungmin offers him a polite smile, and his clean, well-dressed appearance only serves to further distance him from the raving partygoers all around him. Seungmin stretches a hand towards him in greeting, and Minho glumly takes it in his own hand; already, he feels something off about the way the young heir is staring back at him.

“...God,  _ wow _ , Jisung, I wasn’t expecting to meet a bunch of industry titans,” Minho grumbles, now trying to avoid the curious eyes of the other three. “At least, I  _ wish _ I was more drunk before you introduced me,” he chides jokingly.

“You know what? That’s not a bad idea.” Jisung grins up at him and quickly hails over a nearby waiter. “Yoohoo, waiter!”

The expression on Minho’s face grows stern as the waiter turns and walks closer, and he recognizes it as none other than  _ Jeongin _ , one of Chan’s coworkers in the catering company, and a recent entrant into Minho’s tiny social circle with both Chan and Changbin. He and Jeongin share a brief look of mutual surprise before the younger boy snaps out of it and bows toward Jisung.

The interaction is not lost on the other four boys, and Jisung takes the opportunity to lightly smack Minho on the shoulder. “Is he one of your friends too?”

“I-I...well, yeah. We know each other.”

“Y-Yes, Mr. Han, sir.” Jeongin offers a toothy, anxious grin before bowing his head deeply.

A proud laugh comes out of Jisung before patting the waiter on the shoulder. “Lift your head man, Mr. Han is my  _ dad _ . Tell you what; if you can get us a round of shots right now, I’ll throw in a generous tip for you. How does that sound?”

The young waiter’s eyes twinkle in the darkness and he graciously nods. “O-On the way, sir. I-I mean – “

“ _ Jisung _ . Call me Jisung.”

“Yes! Jisung, sir. Uh. Yes. Right away!” Jeongin flashes another grin at Minho before darting off and away, again leaving the con man in the presence of the four  _ incredibly _ wealthy heirs. If only there was a word for being in awkward silence, despite being inside a bass-heavy, nightclub.

“So, what do you do for a living?” Seungmin immediately questions, regarding him with a steely gaze; Minho’s blood runs colder than a mai tai.

“I…” Minho blinks and it seems like time slows to a standstill as he tries to think up something  _ respectable _ he’s done in the past few months. One that doesn’t involve stealing money from unlucky, naive shmucks. “...I used to be a branch manager at, uh...an engineering company. Small tech. I got laid off.”

Seungmin regards him inquisitively in a way that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. “Hm. That’s unfortunate. How  _ did _ you two meet, by the way? Jisung’s always been about fun and games, but it’s rare that he drops this much money on a stranger. Unless you two are, y’know – “

“ _ Seungmin _ .” The tech heir turns over to Hyunjin, who is eyeing him venomously.

“What? It’s an honest question,” Seungmin retorts, punctuating his sentence with a laugh that sounds a little too fake.

“Ah, ah, um,” Jisung stutters, sidling over to Minho and slinging an arm protectively over his shoulders. “We’re just friends. I just wanted to be nice, Minnie, don’t be like  _ that _ .”

“Yeah, I’m with Jisung. We’re all  _ friends _ here!” Felix responds by pulling both Seungmin and Hyunjin close with his arms. “And speaking of  _ friends _ , our waiter is here with our shots!”

Just in time, Jeongin returns with a tray full of shots, assorted with all sorts of bright colors that might look a bit dangerous to the uninitiated. “Sorry, you didn’t specify what kind of alcohol you wanted, so I just...hobbled together some of the best stuff they have in the kitchen.” Jeongin laughs sheepishly as he sets the tray down on the table in front of them, before clasping his hands together anxiously.

Jisung’s demeanor lightens up considerably and he immediately fishes out his wallet –  _ Gucci _ , of course – to count out some bills. “Alright...one, two, three...three hundred should be good, yeah?” He passes a thick wad of bills over to the waiter, whose eyes enlarge to the size of plates.

Minho narrows his eyes at the stack before turning back to Jisung. “Three hundred?”

“Yeah, three hundred thousand won. Why?”

Jeongin’s mouth nearly drops but instead he sucks it back in and bows in deep gratitude. “T-Thank you so much…! If there’s anything else – “

“That’s all for now, kiddo. I’ll call you over if we need you, yeah?”

Minho stares up at Jeongin with mild wonder and watches the waiter pretty much skip back to the kitchen.

“Damn, this looks...super strong,” Hyunjin laments as he stares over the tray of colorfully arranged shots.

“What, are you chickening out?”

“No!”

“Guys,  _ guys _ ,” Felix interrupts with a chuckle. “Let’s just take the shots already.”

“I agree with Lix.” Seungmin’s smile is cunning, especially when he returns his gaze to Minho. “Perhaps our  _ guest of honor _ would like to make the toast?”

Here, Minho’s composure nearly cracks but decides against arguing back for the sake of saving face. His tone is gruff just from the way he clears his throat and swipes the bright green shot glass off the table without any hesitation.

The liquid is damn near  _ fluorescent _ under the black lights, and Minho knows he shouldn’t be drinking anymore after the two cocktails he’s already had, but  _ damn _ if Jisung’s spiked-up grin isn’t making his heart do somersaults in his chest.

“...Uh. Well, I’ve never been great at speeches but...here goes.” Minho inhales sharply, a mistake that nearly causes him to yack – mostly because he’d just inhaled the fumes wafting off of the shot glass right in front of him. “I’ve known him for barely a  _ week _ , but...he told me himself that he was here for a good time, not a long time. That being  _ said _ – thank you for giving me this taste of paradise, Jisung. Happy birthday,  _ you crazy little shit! _ ”

Hyunjin and Felix fly into hysterics right as he brings the radioactive green liquid to his lips, flooding his senses like a powerful analgesic. The drink hits him near instantly, and suddenly the room begins to flicker around him like an instagrammable bokeh filter. The warmth spread through his flesh all too suddenly, and he fights the urge to look around for something to clutch onto.

“...Shit, what was in that drink…?” he mutters to himself, but the other boys are clearly affected for the  _ better _ , judging from Jisung and Felix shooting up off their seats to holler into the air.

_ Oh, don’t you dare look back _

_ Just keep your eyes on me _

_ I said, “You’re holding back” _

_ She said, “Shut up and dance with me” _

“Oh, shit,  _ I love this song! _ ” Minho barely registers that voice as Jisung’s before the younger man is dragging him out of his seat and down the stairs, down, down, down to the dancefloor. The music is louder, he thinks, and the lights are brighter, but the only thing that registers in Minho’s mind is the glow on Jisung’s cheeks and the glittery streaks in his hair.

“I…um – “

“Don’t tell me you can’t  _ dance _ ,” Jisung laughs as they both stand there in the midst of the crowd.

“N-No, I  _ can _ – “

“Oh, so you  _ can _ dance?”

Minho fidgets for a moment, trying to fight the instinct to turn tail and walk right out of the room. He hadn’t danced since high school, and now… “ _ Yes _ , but that’s beside the point – “

All at once, the room was bathed in ultraviolet light, just in time for the stereos to start blasting another song altogether.

_ If you don’t wanna see me _

Jisung suddenly shoves him away and breaks into a cartoony jive, mouthing along to the lyrics in an animated manner. “ _ Did a full one-eighty, crazy...thinking ‘bout the way I was, _ ” Jisung sings along, much too loudly than would be appropriate in any setting, but even at this volume, his voice is surprisingly honey-like.

Minho stares at him coolly, just as a crowd pulls away from the two of them, circling them like an audience watching a bullfight. Now Minho wonders which one of them is the bull.

Jisung taps his foot to the beat, drunkenly singing out loud and gesturing to the con man like a dance partner.

_ If you don’t wanna see me dance with somebody _

_ If you wanna believe that anything could stop me _

“It’s all up to you now,” he reads off of Jisung’s lips, and it feels like something  _ snaps _ inside him.

Suddenly, Minho’s arms shoot in every which way and his feet carry him forward in the smoothest manner, evoking a laugh of pure joy out of Jisung, and drawing a roar of applause from the crowd. He can’t help the cheeky grin spreading across his face as the beat seeps down into his  _ bones _ , and suddenly it’s like he can feel nothing but the vibrations on the floor.

_ Don’t show up _

_ Don’t show out _

_ Don’t start caring about me now _

When he turns back to Jisung, the younger boy is mirroring his expressions, and trying his damndest to cheer him on. There’s something other than blood surging in his veins, and that something presses him to take Jisung by the hand and pull him into a fancy spin.

“Why am I the only one dancing now?” Minho yells.

“You looked like you were having fun!”

“Don’t leave me hanging then,  _ partner _ …!”

_ Don't show up (don't show up), don't come out (don't come out) _

_ Don't start caring about me now ('bout me now) _

_ Walk away (walk away), you know how (you know how) _

_ Don't start caring about me now _

The two of them fall into an easy rhythm, swinging themselves back and forth to the bouncy synth and heavy bass as their audience continues to cheer them on. As the colors start to melt into each other and the sounds all fade into white noise...the only constant that remains is Jisung. With the glitter in his hair and the glow on his face and the crown twinkling on his head.

“M-Minho,” Jisung whispers, already giggling halfway through speaking his name. When did his arms come around his neck? When did he get this close to him…? When did he – 

Minho thinks,  _ fuck it _ , and closes the distance between them, blames it on the liquid courage, blames it on Chan’s incessant babying of him, blames it on the cute,  _ god _ , so damned cute boy in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> this is definitely something i can see myself revisiting in the future if i wanted to write and expand on any of my existing works. thank you so much for checking this out, and please check out more submissions on https://twitter.com/minsungseason ! see you later and stay safe <3


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